


Home Now

by fiveroundsrapid



Category: Holby City
Genre: AU, F/F, berena - Freeform, episode rewrite
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2019-11-08
Packaged: 2020-06-02 13:57:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19442836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fiveroundsrapid/pseuds/fiveroundsrapid
Summary: Serena Campbell comes back as interim CEO for Henrik, not knowing what awaits her since her sabbatical. The hospital is in crisis, her girlfriend, at least she thinks Bernie is still her girlfriend, isn't talking to her, and Serena soon discovers why...Rewrite starting from "Not Your Home Now", where Bernie never left Holby after the Trauma Unit closed.





	1. Chapter 1

“You're a hard person to track down. I understand why. What you needed to do. The journey you wanted to go on. If there were any other way, any other person I thought I could turn to…” A hand reached out to stop Henrik Hanssen's words. Serena Campbell, fresh from the airport, sporting grey locks and a suitcase, made him pause from lining up his coffee set on the airport bar.

“Henrik, stop. You only had to ask. You only ever have to ask.” She gave him a small smile. When she’d received the phone call, she’d just had to go. It felt almost like the last piece of a puzzle; to face her demons, face what she left behind. She couldn’t deny the wish to run, however. But she could never do that to Henrik. Not when she knew the pain he was feeling. He didn’t show it, not much, but Serena had known him long enough now to recognise the Swede in crisis.

“So, you got my briefing notes, did you?” He folded his arms.

“I did. A little sparse for you on… _certain things_.” Serena cleared her throat, toying with the stem of her Shiraz glass. He didn't meet her eye, but he knew what things she was referring to. Whilst Henrik was meticulous on everything from audits to parking zones, he had failed to mention one thing that Serena cared most about. Again, Serena knew Henrik too well to think it could be a mistake or forgetfulness on his part. He’d not mentioned Berenice Wolfe on purpose. She was hesitant to ask why. Demons, after all.

“I felt things on AAU were best served by someone up to date with the current situation. Nurse Jackson has been working closely on the ward, for instance, as well as some of your former colleagues.” He replied, being as forthright as he felt he could. Ms Wolfe and Ms Campbell had held a complicated relationship since the end of the trauma unit, and Henrik wad unsure where it was that they stood, from Ms Wolfe being a fairly private person and as the person who had closed the trauma unit, he was not someone for the trauma lead to confide in. He hoped the two women were in a position to be happy. In this world, they both deserved it. However, considering Serena seemed oblivious to Ms Wolfe's state was… troubling to him. “It was not my news to share. You’ll understand, from the notes, that this is not a crisis of your making. I only ask that you steady the ship, provide leadership until... some other arrangements can be made.”

“ _Other arrangements?_ When are you coming back?” Serena questioned. Henrik stayed silent, and she pressed him, “You are planning on coming back?” A huff. “I'll give you as long as I can.”

“I understand.”

“But I can't stay.”

“I know.”

“I’m… not sure I’m ready. That I’m welcome.” It was betraying herself. Her mask slipping just that little bit. Her handle of her depression had gotten a lot better, that was true. But it was an ugly illness and it made her feel ugly. She had burned bridges when she left, as well as been hard to communicate with. She'd tried, of course. Sent olive oil, postcards. Tried email and phone, but especially in Nepal, all things electronic had been hard to access. Serena took a long sip of her Shiraz, her hand coming up to toy with a new necklace.

Henrik seemed to notice her shift in countenance and looked towards her. It was his turn to put a hand on hers. She met his gaze; mirrored pools of grief that sought out her own. Two childless parents. He gave her a sincere, soft smile.

“You have been missed, Serena.” He assured her. 

“Thank you.”

*******

She shut the door to her car with a slam. Steadying herself, her gaze wandered up to the great building in front of her. Holby City Hospital. It seemed like a lifetime since she had been there, and now here she was, at the place she had run from, and the people. Her right hand flexed against the strap of her bag. She needed courage. Being CEO, whilst something she no longer wanted, did still come naturally to her business brain, and she hadn’t been idle in her travels, so she had no qualms about her surgical or diagnostic skills.

Social skills, though. She had left a lot of people in the lurch by her sabbatical. She spoke to Jason, every few weeks, though it was difficult with his need for a schedule. She had been good with her partner, Bernie, as well. A hand went up to her hair; Bernie hadn’t seen it grey. Silly of her, to feel insecure, but they'd left things very loose when she left. She wasn’t going to keep Bernie obligated to a broken woman, but things had continued to be good for them. Except, weeks ago, communication stopped. Serena had known things were rough, with the trauma unit closing and taking care of AAU, and then the shooting, it was no wonder Bernie wasn’t answering calls. 

But insecurity reared its ugly head and Serena couldn’t be sure that Bernie would actually be _glad_ to see her. No calls were one thing, she was always awful with that, and Serena hadn't always been in a place to respond either. But no texts, no emails, nothing for weeks and weeks.

It’s not like she was expecting some romantic moment, Serena chided herself as she walked up towards the main reception. No chance of seeing each other across the ward, eyes meeting and suddenly everything would be alright. Serena knew that, really, she did. They’d been a couple for so little time before Serena had changed, when Elinor had- Serena swallowed. 

_Picture the mountains._

She took a deep breath and went inside. Bernie would be on shift, she would treat her as normal and have a conversation in her office when the timing was right. As for everything else; Jason, Ric, Sacha and CEO detritus, she simply had to believe she was strong enough to face it all.

_Shoulders back, Campbell._

*******

She’d unpacked in her office. Taken down a ridiculous sign stating her as CEO. She didn’t need a door sign, she wasn’t planning on staying. Taking a moment, she looked it all over. Her coat, her scarf, her trinkets from travels. No photos. Serena didn’t really have anything she needed to remind herself of. The place was full of memories. Odd, to think a few years ago, this job would have been a dream. Closing her eyes briefly, she centred herself. Ward rounds beckoned. A check-in, and her first stop was definitely AAU. Excitement and nerves battled in her, for whatever horrible memories, whatever horrible behaviour she had committed, and there was a lot, she loved AAU. It had been a second home, for a time. So had the people. But what awaited her now? Bernie wasn’t speaking to her, Morven was gone, as was Cameron, Fletch on Darwin, Ric splitting his time between there and Keller and Raf was dead. Jasmine was dead. 

Home was difficult to place now.

*******

The ward itself had hardly changed. She recognised the majority of nurses and porters. A few new faces, but that was to be expected. Nurse Jackson, for one, was someone she needed to look for. Henrik had said that she was pretty much the second-in-command to running the ward. Perhaps the reason for Bernie’s silence? A new beau on the scene. Serena couldn’t blame her. She’d quicker blame herself.

However, all thoughts of that went out of the window as she surveyed the utter chaos of her once pristine ward. What the hell had happened? The theatre list was a mess, full of electives, they were understaffed from what she could see, and the beds were clearly not being sufficiently utilised for expediency. Serena walked up to the nurses' station, where a woman stood with large curls and blue scrubs.

“Can I help you?” The woman asked her. Serena gave a tentative smile, her eyes flitting however to bed one, where a woman was very drowsily trying to get out of bed, still attached to a drip.

“Yes, I'm looking for the clinical lead,” Serena said, with the height of professionalism, as her stomach did flip flops. 

“I'm afraid he's busy at the moment, but..” The pronoun caught her attention, Serena looked back at the nurse, sharply.

“He? Busy doing what?” 

“Preparing for a conference. Perhaps there's something I could help you with?” So Bernie wasn’t here? Had she missed something? Serena should have checked rotas, it was silly of her not to. But it was also alarming that Bernie _wasn’t_ here. She was a workaholic at the best of times, but Serena knew she would rather work herself into the ground than ever take a day off and leave the ward like this. Especially when the other clinical lead, whether Ric or Sacha or some other new face, had to go to a conference. Questions needed answers. But let’s start with what was right in front of them.

“OK, well, you can start by explaining why bed 1 appears to be wandering off to Lord knows where still attached to her drip!” She moved for a closer look at the theatre list. “More importantly, why is the theatre list not fully utilised? And why is the emergency theatre being used for elective caesareans, leaving the ward dangerously exposed in the event of a major trauma?”

“Well, there isn't a trauma unit here any more.” A young doctor piped up. She was an F1 judging by her youth, but good on her for speaking up. She had a long-sleeved grey t-shirt under her scrubs. Serena would have chuckled had other things not taken priority; Bernie Wolfe starting hospital fashion trends.

“Yes, I am fully aware of that short-sighted piece of folly, but AAU must be prepared for anything - at any time,” Serena explained to the F1 before her eyes went again to the nurse. She looked at her name badge: _Nurse Donna Jackson._ “I’m pretty sure the head of this ward will have told you that!” Serena’s voice raised, slightly. This was like Bernie wasn’t even employed here, let alone in the building. There’s no way, no way on earth, that Bernie would have let it get like this. Trauma was her bread and butter, she was always on hand in an emergency and always prepared. Nothing made sense. 

“Firstly, we have one consultant, and he's going to a conference. Secondly, I can have that theatre ready within minutes for any life and limb surgery and thirdly,” The nurse put her hands on her hips, “who do you think you are, Bossy Britches?”

“Serena!” She looked to the door of the ward at the sound of Sacha Levy. That man’s smile was infectious, and he quickly swept her up in a hug. “Oh, wow. You're a sight for sore eyes.”

“And you're the cause for sore ribs.” She chuckled out, hugging him back just as keenly. He let go, beaming at her. Serena quickly deduced that it was he going to a conference; it was a muted shirt for him, blue paisley, and with a tie and suit jacket. Definitely a conference. 

“Sorry. Sorry.” Sacha’s attention went to Donna and the F1. “Introductions. Right, Nurse Donna Jackson, Dr Nicky McKendrick, this is Ms Serena Campbell. Our new boss!”

“Er, temporary boss.” She warned him, and then over to Donna.“So, you’re Donna Jackson?”

“I might be.” Nurse Jackson seemed to have dampened that fire a little bit in the face of her new CEO. Now she had the tone of a child who thought she might be in trouble.

“OK.” Serena smiled at the change in demeanour. Nothing like a bit of power. “Well, I will take over Mr Levy's list for today. You sort out the electives. Then come and see me. We've got things to discuss.” Serena patted Sacha on the shoulder, and then walked over to her old office. 

The door opened swiftly, but she stood in the doorway for a moment, her eyes going to her old desk. Neat and pristine, Bernie definitely wasn’t using it. Bernie’s desk was to the left, opposite Serena’s… or Sacha’s, as today’s case may be. Walking over to it, her fingers grazed the tabletop. No coat hung up, no sign that Bernie was here. Or had been here yesterday or even the day before. No dirty cups, no paperwork out of place or a big to-do pile. But her photos were still there. Her stationary. So not gone then.

Serena looked down at her mobile in her hands, and opened it, scrolling through contacts till she reached Bernie’s name. Her finger hovered over the number before she pressed it, and held it to her ear. “Come on, Bernie…” Serena muttered under her breath, getting more worried. 

“ _Bernie Wolfe. Leave a message.”_ Serena huffed at the voicemail. Succinct as ever. Serena put the phone down on her own desk and sat back in her chair. Sacha entered. She smiled, tired, at him. 

“So, conference?

“Yes, sorry about that.”

“It's all right.”

“We'll catch up later?”

“Yeah.”

“So, is there anything you need?” 

“Henrik left me detailed notes.”

“Is he...?” 

“Working things through.”

“And have you spoken to-” Sacha didn’t finish what he was going to say as Donna came into the office.

“I've reassigned those electives for you. You wanted to see me?”

“Yes, I understand you’ve been on the ward for some time… Ms-” Serena paused. “Bernie. Is she still here?”

“I’m going to head out, Serena.” Sacha butted in, eyes on Donna, who shared a look. Serena narrowed her eyes- perhaps it was just here, but people seemed to be walking on eggshells. What Serena didn’t understand was why. Bernie was fine, no injuries in the hospital shooting, she should be _here._ Perhaps a family emergency? Charlotte? That would explain the eggshells, bringing up her partner’s daughter, after Elinor. But Donna wasn’t to know that. Sacha left pretty swiftly, as something seemed to click in Donna’s mind.. 

“Oh my God.” She stated.

“Is that a yes?” Serena probed.

“Sorry but, you’re that Serena, aren’t you? Ms Wolfe’s old co-lead and… and…” Donna trailed off. Serena raised an eyebrow. Her reputation seems to have proceeded her. A little difficult to know what to make of that; it was usually her surgical prowess that made her a conversation piece, rather than her relationship. It meant Bernie had talked about her though. Her stomach fluttered. She internally told it to shut up.

“If you can hasten to pick your jaw up off of the floor. I want to know why she’s not here, and why you’re only left with Mr Levy, who as capable he is, is not a trauma surgeon by trade.”

“No one told you?”

“Told me what?” It came out biting and impatient. What on Earth could be so bad? That Bernie was on a romantic liaison with some other person? That she had been told Serena was coming back and taken all of her annual leave at once? That she’d switched to working in the ED? What? _What?_

“I really don’t think I should be-”

“Nurse Jackson.” A warning look. It worked. Donna took a deep breath. 

“Jail. Ms Wolfe is in jail. She’s been charged with medical manslaughter.” Donna admitted, and Serena froze. Jail? What? Why had nobody told her? Henrik? She thought back to his words: it was not his news to share. No, it was Bernie’s news, and Serena was furious that she hadn’t been told. Whatever they were to each other, you’d think she’d have called her to say she was in jail. That maybe, just maybe, she needed her? How could she be in jail? Serena breathed hard, in and out. Donna looked on, a little worried at how pale Serena had become. Bernie was a consummate professional, no blemish on her military record, and none at Holby. Sure, she pushed boundaries, she did that from her first day. But medical manslaughter? Bernie would never _ever_ do something if she believed it would harm a patient. “Ms Campbell?”

“When?” She focused on her breathing, focused on the facts. If there was one thing, at least she knew why Bernie’s phone went to voicemail.

“A few weeks ago, I thought she would have told you, she’s always banging on about you- well, she was-”

“Has there been a trial?”

“No, she’s waiting for it. They’ve got her on charges of assault as well.”

“Bernie?” Serena couldn’t wrap her head around it. Donna, easily pegged as someone who was not shy, looked unsure how much to tell Serena. 

“She’s… ever since the shooting, and with the case, she’s been on edge.” That was vague, thought Serena. On edge? What did that even mean, how did that drive her to assault? To medical manslaughter? The two didn’t compute. “Listen, I try to visit, but other than Ric on occasion, she doesn’t let anyone else see her. Not even her kids, apparently.”

“Yes, well, Cameron is travelling at the moment, and Charlotte lives quite a way away, I doubt she’d have wanted to bother them.” Serena knew that she had minimal contact with her children, and knew that Bernie had had a rough time of it. Everything with Serena herself, her divorce being finalised, losing Jasmine, having the trauma unit shut down. The shooting, Morven leaving and now this case. Serena had been a fool not to have seen it. Maybe she hadn’t wanted to.

“That’s odd.” Donna sat down on one of the visitors chairs in the office. 

“Why?”

“Ms Wolfe, on the day… when it happened, she said she had to leave because of a family emergency.”

“That’s ridiculous. They’re her only family. She doesn’t really keep in much contact with her ex.” Serena explained, getting more and more confused. She needed to see Bernie. She didn’t understand this at all. What had she come back to? “How did this happen?”

“It’s all pretty complicated.” Again, Donna had that hesitant look. Serena had a feeling this wasn’t the time or place. Besides, there was nothing Serena could do, and she wanted to call the prison as soon as she could to arrange a visitation. Before she does anything else, she just wants to see her girlfriend.

“Look, I’ve got things to do, I’ll come and speak with you later. I will want to know everything about Bernie’s case and her defence. I’ll try to get a visit as soon as I can.”

“She doesn’t do visits, I’ve said-” Donna started, as she rose from her chair to leave.

“She will for me.” Serena stated with utmost confidence. Hell or high water, she’d see Bernie. A look passed between the two women, one of understanding. Donna then turned to leave again. Then, before Serena could second guess herself; “The word you were looking for, Nurse Jackson, earlier?”

“Sorry?” Donna asked.

“I’m her partner.”

“Understood.” Donna Jackson nodded and left the office. Serena collapsed back into her chair, closing her eyes. 

_Picture the mountains._

Don’t picture Bernie being charged for manslaughter.

*******

Her talk with Jac had borne little fruit. She’d offered incense as a way of an olive branch, but had been rejected with the usual Jac tact. Serena saw how much pain she was in, not just with her back. She’d sent flowers. Ric had told her of Jasmine’s death when she’d been in France. It had been a few days before she had managed to get Bernie on the phone after that, ever stoical, ever discreet about pain and feelings. Serena had tried to let her know, subtly, that the relationship was still a two-way street, that she was still a port of call, but Bernie was protective of her. It had only been a phone call as well, hardly the place to break down. She just hoped that Ric had been looking after her, and Jason had provided company. 

Speaking of Jason; “Hello, Jason.” He was in his porter gear, pushing along a trolley. She clung to her files as he turned at the sound of her voice. “Working the early shift?”

“Auntie Serena? You're here!” A breath of relief as Jason pulled her into a hug, and Serena accepted it gratefully, remembering a time when a hug from him had seemed impossible. He looked good. Happy. That’s all she wanted for her nephew.

“I'm sorry, love, I know I should have called. It all happened rather quickly.” She apologised, pulling out of the hug.

“That's OK. I'm just glad to see you're back.” He looked to the files in her hands. “And you're working.”

“Yep.”

“Does this mean you're all better in the head?” Jason asked her, bluntly. Serena quickly recovered. Honestly, she was too happy to be speaking with him face to face, she had actually missed his abrasive nature.

“Well, I'm certainly better than I was.”

“Good. I'm glad.”

“I've so much to tell you.” Serena beamed at him, just happy that he was glad to see her. She wanted to tell him everything about her travels, about her plans, about how she came back. And to ask him things as well, like his plans, how the house was, how he was, and about Bernie and all he had been up to. 

“And me you. But now I'm working.”

“Oh, right.” Serena took the hint, walking with him slowly. Jason pushing the trolley, and Serena keeping in step, heading in the direction of AAU.

“Ms Wolfe isn't here.”

“So I hear… not that anyone will tell me anything.”

“Did you ask?

“What did she tell you?” Serena asked, curiously. Bernie and Jason, for all her knowledge, had been getting closer. She definitely trusted Bernie with safeguarding her nephew, and there had been quite a few messages asking her to look in on Jason, making sure Jason remembered things and just, in general, to ask Bernie how Jason was. Bernie had always been good with Jason, from the moment they met. They both held value in logic and an appreciation for getting to the bottom line. Serena was unsure whether Bernie would have told him all about her current situation, wanting to protect him as well. Stubborn soldier. 

“Just that she had to go away for a bit, and not to worry.”

“Yes, that sounds like her,” Serena muttered, mainly to herself, thinking hard. She hadn’t told Jason about going to jail then. Hopefully, that just meant the Bernie was sure she wouldn’t be in jail for long, would be acquitted at trial and keep her license and everything would go back to normal soon. Serena hadn’t been raised to be optimistic though. Jason frowned at his aunt.

“Is something wrong? Are you fighting?”

“What? No!” Serena was quick to say. She was sure of that at least. They had the odd tiff, what couple didn't? But no, they weren’t fighting at the moment. They never did for long. Despite having the normal reaction of wanting to yell at Bernie for not being straight with her that she was in _jail_ for god’s sake, Serena is equally sure as soon as the prison gave her a visit, she’d forgive and forget as soon as she saw her. “No, Jason, we’ve just not spoken in a little while, that’s all. But it will be fine.”

“Do you still love her?”

“Yes,” That had never changed. “I do.”

“Good.”

“Good?” Serena echoed, amused. Jason nodded, thoughtfully, which only made her smile widen as they neared AAU’s doors.

“Yes. I’ve recently started calling her Auntie Bernie and I’d hate for that to change now I’ve gotten used to it.” Serena fumbled a little getting her pass card from her pocket on hearing that, and looked over to Jason with an expression of wonder. Bernie hadn’t told her that. _Auntie Bernie._ It wasn’t something Serena had seen coming but it was… no other word for it, it was wonderful. Especially as it seemed it was a regular name now, Jason seemed to have it fitted into his routine if his words were anything to go by. 

“Well, I’m sure it’ll all be sorted out before I go.”

“You're not staying?”

“Not long-term, no. I’ve still got… things to do.” She buzzed them into the ward.

“OK.”

“That's it? _OK_?”

“Yes.”

“There... There are reasons…” She wanted to explain, to make him understand, even if he was being so noble and calm about it all. Serena felt like she owed him an explanation, but Jason beat her to it. 

“This isn't your home now.” That hit her like a punch in the gut. She looked down, a little ashamed, despite being unable to change her feelings. The last time she felt at home here, she had her partner, her nephew, her daughter and her staff. Now, what was left? Just Jason and even he had resented her by the end. She needed to be sure she was ‘right in the head’ before committing to his life again. She wanted to shield him from her own potential cruelty. 

“No... I'm not sure that it is.” Scenes from a bathroom flashed across her memory. Bernie, looking tall and windswept and furious and tender all at the same time. _I can take it, they can’t._ “Look…” She began again, but Nurse Jackson had strode up to the pair.

“Ms Campbell…” She tried.

“Not now, Nurse Jackson.”

“It's Ms Wolfe.” That got her attention. That frightened her.

“What about her?”

“She's here.” Donna told her, and Serena gave Jason a pat on the arm, a signal to bid him goodbye, and not to follow her. He didn’t need to see whatever mess Berenice Wolfe had put herself in, and judging from Donna’s grave expression, Serena wasn’t going to like what she saw. The only reason Bernie would be here would either be because she had been released, which was very, very unlikely, or because she’d been hurt. Serena prayed and prepared herself. She didn’t want to lose anyone else. The blue curtain around the bed was ripped back to reveal...

“Bernie.” 

“S- _Serena_ … you're here.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of a shorter chapter this one, I just wanted it to be one long scene and to really focus in on our two ladies and all the emotions. Hope I've done it justice, and thank you so much for all the response thus far.

Bernie was shocked. But surprisingly, not by the makeshift shiv stuck in her gut. That she was fine with, she’d had a few shrapnel injuries before in Afghanistan, and her time incarcerated had not been a smooth ride. This was just the latest in a long line of harm subjected to Berenice Wolfe’s body. No, what shocked her was, instead of seeing Ric Griffin or Sacha Levy, she was looking up at Serena Campbell.  _ Her Serena.  _ Suddenly, Bernie was wishing she looked a lot better than she did. She was clad in blood-soaked grey prison joggers, with her hair looking a nightmare, her roots darker, her weight having dropped, with no make-up, and with the fetching accessory of the guard which she was handcuffed too. 

But Serena… Serena looks wonderful. A bright pink blouse that always looked good on her, and the hair was new and silver. She looked less burdened, even as she was looking down at Bernie with something akin to horror in her eyes. That’d be the shiv.

Bernie’s face flushed. She feels embarrassed, having not told Serena anything about the trial coming up. A vain part of her had hoped that she would just get it sorted, sweep it under the rug and have the crisis dodged or reversed by the time Serena ever came home. Most of the time it had felt like an  _ if  _ Serena was coming home, and nowadays it felt like  _ if  _ Bernie managed to get it all sorted. As far as her lawyers were concerned, they were worried. 

“You’re… you’re here.” Bernie tried to stretch up from her awkward position, but it jostled the shiv and she let out a hiss of pain. Serena instinctively moved to stop her moving anymore, and Bernie nodded, getting the message as she let her body go limp. She smiled though. Breathing hard through her nose and closing her eyes for just a brief moment. She remained smiling. How could she not?

Serena was here.

“I need full bloods, cannula, and colloids going, please. BP, temperature and pulse?” Serena rattled off, needing to retreat into a professional mode. If she didn’t, it would be too easy to focus on just how much blood was on her partner and how it would have felt like getting the news of Bernie dying back in France. Bernie understood, watching as Serena put on the latex gloves to take her pulse at both wrist and neck. It was good to see Serena back at work, on top form, even if she was the patient. The morphine was very helpful, luckily.

“It hasn't gone in too deep. About an inch and a half, I'd guess.” Bernie offered, moving her arm behind her head so Serena could get better access to the wound to her abdomen. Serena shot Bernie a warning look and Bernie let out a breathless chuckle. They both knew Bernie was right; she’d diagnosed her own pseudoaneurysm after all, and that was whilst being jostled around in a neck brace, on a stretcher. “It missed the aorta, cava and I'm pretty sure the liver's safe, so no major damage.”

“No major damage?” Serena scoffed, unsurprised by Bernie’s apparent bravado. She was more concerned about something else; “Who did this to you?”

Bernie’s eye contact wavered. “No-one. It was an accident.”

“An accident indeed.” Bernie thought that was the  _ same  _ look Serena gave when Bernie hadn’t done the dishes after promising to before shift. But Serena knew that it was. Serena knew it was an outright lie. Accident indeed, no one would look at that wound and say ‘accident’. “Nurse Jackson?”

“Yes?” Donna asked, having been attaching leads to Bernie.

“Ric Griffin, is he on duty today?” Serena asked her, as her hands felt the area around the wound, checking for any other tenderness.

“Yeah.”

“Good, tell him I need him down here, ASAP.”

“Right.” Donna nodded, and shot Bernie down a warm smile. It was nice to see her, though like this was a shock. 

“I can triage, but I can’t operate on you,” Serena explained, looking back down to Bernie, who’s eyes widened, ever so slightly. Serena asking for Ric could mean one or two things; that Serena still wasn’t good for surgery, or Serena was ethically prohibited from doing the surgery. Judging from her small view of Serena thus far, she hadn’t lost any of her medical skills. Bernie was hesitant. She didn’t fancy getting burnt in such a  _ vulnerable  _ position but the small light of hope she had been cradling about their future, burned a little brighter inside of her.

“You’re good though. I… I like the hair.” Bernie made no hint to hide her slow look up and down, just to test the waters. If Serena said no, or to stop it, then Bernie would. Either way, Bernie needed to know what to do with that spark of hope. Serena flushed, a hand flew upwards to tuck an errant grey strand behind her ear. Bernie’s smile widened.

“Hush you. Time for that later.” Serena scolded. “What I don’t like is the bloody knife you’ve got stuck in you. What were you thinking?” Bernie’s smile dropped. She didn’t want to tell Serena, she wanted to shield Serena. After everything she had been through, the last thing she needed was to worry about was Bernie getting beaten up in prison. There was nothing Serena could do about it anyway.

“Accident.” She repeated, and from the looks of things Serena did not believe her. Luckily, she was saved by Donna returning with Ric, who already had his scrubs on, and seemed surprised to see them both. 

“Serena. Long time no see.” The old friends exchanged smiles. Ric looked over at Bernie’s vitals. “Bernie. Donna told me you were here.”

“Joining the party?” Bernie quipped. It fell a little flat. “Look, just get me into theatre, it’s not caught anything, you can take it out under local.”

“You can’t backseat drive your own surgery, Bernie.” Serena resisted rolling her eyes.

“Serena, I’ve got this.” Ric knew what Serena was now, and it wasn’t a doctor. She was the concerned family. He’d looked out for Bernie after the trauma unit, the loss of it bringing them closer, forming a tight team. He knew how much Bernie had missed Serena. It had been odd to see the army major  _ pining.  _ Ric could only assumed Serena felt the same way. “BP’s strong.” 

“I’ve got lucky.” Again, Bernie quipped. The innuendo wasn’t lost on her new consultant, who gave a cheeky grin, tongue between teeth, glancing between the couple as he snapped on his gloves.

“Ric.” Donna had spotted him.

“Book a theatre for me, Donna.” Ric asked her, “Ms Wolfe’s got the right idea, a quick fix under local is the right approach. But for now, dress it with surgi-pad and tape.” He addressed Serena, head incline towards the office. “Serena?”

She hesitated. “Can I just…?” She wanted to speak with Bernie.

“I’ll be in the office.” Ric and Donna left, Ric to the office, Donna over to the nurses’ station. They exchanged a look with each other as they did so, Donna with raised eyebrows, and Ric gave a little shrug. He had no more idea about how the couple was than she did. 

Serena went over to another bay, taking off her gloves and binning them, before she grabbed a visitor’s chair, dragging it over, before sitting down, inching closer to Bernie’s bedside. She kept her hands in her lap, not wanting to cause any more pain. 

Now that they were alone, it was hard for Serena to pick a way for the conversation to go. On the one hand, she wanted to rail at Bernie, for not telling her what was going on, for putting herself in a place to get stabbed of all things. Wanting to ask her why she felt she couldn’t call her or tell her what was going on, or where they stood. It was clear there was still  _ something  _ there. But Serena was still worried; their banter had always had a flirtatious edge to it. Bernie had never shied away from complimenting her. Even in the days of friendship, she had often exclaimed about how she liked a blouse, could never pull off that colour or haircut. Of course, then she’d baulk at Serena’s hat. Serena sighed, and lent forward in her chair.

“I leave you for five minutes…” Her words were fond though. Shouting could be saved for later. She knew how to tend to little peeves, after all. It was an argument that could wait until after surgery. Even after the trial. They had time.

“Never say I can’t make an entrance though.” Bernie couldn’t stop looking at Serena. 

“Are you alright? Silly question, of course not.” Serena looked down at her hands, then up again. Bernie always could make her feel flustered. “How’s the pain?”

“Manageable. I meant it, though.”

“What?”

“Your hair looks great.”

“Yes, well, hair dye was very difficult to get at a Nepalese retreat, and I- I needed the change.”

“Very sexy.” It came out before Bernie could stop it. “Sorry.” She didn’t want to step over the mark or make Serena feel any pressure. It was like the time straight after Elinor died, when Serena returned to work. Bernie didn’t know how long Serena had been back in the country, so she wanted to give her space. She could wait. It wasn’t like she was going anywhere. 

Serena looked Bernie over. Properly, this time, not just at the wound. They really had run her through the mill. She’d lost weight, if that were even possible considering what a rake she had been before. She looked tired. Serena had seen her tired on a bed before, but it was much different, and after much more  _ enjoyable  _ events. An easier time, for sure, that they both wished they could go back to. Still, Bernie was beautiful. Serena had always loved her eyes. They were always so fiery, so passionate. Whatever mood, good or bad, you could find it in her eyes. It was probably why she avoided eye contact in emotional conversations. It made it harder to get a read. As if there was just seconds away from all her emotions spilling out when she wanted to keep them in.

“I… I have missed you.”  _ I love you _ . She reached out, tucked a blonde bit of fringe behind Bernie’s ear. It was only a mild improvement.

“How long-”

“I only got back last night.” 

“Ouch.”

“Quite,” Serena said with a droll voice and a raised eyebrow. “But I think the prize for the worst day still goes to you.”

Bernie paused. “I don’t know if I should…”

“What? Bernie, if this is about who-”

“No, no.” Bernie knew Serena wanted to know who attacked her, but she was serious on that. It being an accident was her line, and she was sticking to it. Bernie softened, moving her hand down to the edge of the bed, fingers splayed, again, waiting for Serena to make a move if she wanted. “I just… I missed you too.”

“Hope so.” The response was breathless, flirty. Both women locked eyes. They didn’t need to explain any more than that. It was easy to tell what they meant. Both of them remembering the roof, the pigeon, the deckchairs. And both women knew, if this were any other time or place, they'd both reach out to one another with more than hands. Serena took and lightly squeezed Bernie’s hand, blushing slightly. As worried as she was for Bernie, she couldn’t shift the small burst of pleasure fluttering in her ribcage just from seeing her in the flesh again. Good to know that none of that ‘undeniable sexual tension’ had gone anywhere. 

Hope had gotten them this far. It just needed to carry them that little bit further now. 

*******

They had only spoken a little bit more before Donna had come back to treat Bernie’s wound with the surgi-pad and tape. Just on little things, skirting around the bigger issues. Instead, they spoke about Serena’s flight, about Serena reuniting with Jason and how she came to be back in Holby. But then Serena had left Donna to her duties, with a last lingering look, before heading over to the office and saying hello to Ric, who instantly gave her a hug. But she couldn’t stop looking at the door, and over to Bernie, who could be seen through the blinds.

So, Ric offered coffee in the staff room, where they could still talk with privacy, and Serena could have a sit down in more comfortable seats. She was glad, and grounded, by the fact that Ric seemed to have changed little. Perhaps a tiny bit greyer, but then, so was she. But he was still the same old Ric, in his scrubs, and sense of humor. Serena gravitated towards it now that everything else was different. Even minor things; Sacha had been in a suit. Holby had not been as she had left it and Serena didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing. She didn’t want things to be the same as she had left it. After all, she had changed herself and the hospital was painful to her. For it to be the same would be to reopen wounds. But to have it so different left her stranded; unsure where she fit in. Things had moved on so that her mistakes could never be made up now. She couldn’t say sorry to Jasmine or Morven or Raf. She hadn’t even seen Fletch yet. 

It was as Jason had said. She didn’t know if this was home anymore. All she knew was how she felt. That had to guide her for the moment, therefore she had to be guided by the people she loved. Jason. Ric. Bernie. 

“She was attacked.” Ric moved over to the kettle, getting out two mugs as Serena sat down.

“Yes, I got that impression.” She replied, dryly. It was all a mess. The joy of seeing Bernie was wearing off now they weren’t together, and moving back to the worry and panic she’d had previously. It was still inconceivable that anyone would want to attack Bernie. She was… Bernie! She bought people pastries because they were sad, she couldn’t draw a jot and she was emotionally attached to her hoodie. She wasn’t violent, she was a doctor! Not that the two were mutually exclusive- but Bernie was stubborn in her willingness to help and to support. It was a flaw and a virtue. It had served her in every inch of this job and life; mentoring Morven, lying about Cameron, trying everything she could to save Jasmine, her actions in the shooting, her protectiveness of Jason. Her support of Serena after Elinor.

Ric made them both instant coffee and put a mug down in front of Serena before sitting down himself. “I’m sorry, this is hardly a good welcome home, is it?”

“Finding my girlfriend in jail and then having her land on the ward with a shiv stuck in her, no. I would have preferred balloons, truth told. Bernie’s lying. She’s too noble to do anything about it, she’s practically the definition of ‘stiff upper lip’.” The jetlag was starting to hit her. Serena took a sip of her coffee.

“We need to help her.”

“I agree. Donna said you’ve visited her?”

“Just once, after the first attack.”

“First?” Serena replied, aghast, her gaze moving to the door of the staff room, where she knew Bernie was lying in the ward. How many had there been? How many scars were added to Bernie’s total? A mosaic of them now, with all those from her first stint in a hospital bed, her caesarean and her army days. Serena could practically count them from memory, she knew them well enough. Now there would be new ones.

“Serena, you know what these places are like. And Bernie’s military. Everyone will see her as the person to take down. From what I know, she doesn’t go down easy.”

“I don’t care if she’s good in a fight, Ric, she shouldn’t even be in that position!”

“You still love her.” Ric noted. Serena was starting to wish her coffee was Shiraz. But she could always be honest with Ric. Had been from that very night in Albie’s, when she’d told him:  _ It’s Bernie. _

“Never stopped.” She sighed. "We need to get her out of there as soon as possible."


	3. Chapter 3

Serena and Donna were in the office. Bernie’s desk, as it was the one unused for now, having been taken over by all the legal jargon, paperwork and medical files pertaining to Elaine Warren’s case, and Bernie’s likely defence. Between them both, they were able to put together a pretty solid picture of what the prosecution was probably going to say, and Donna was there to fill in any of the blanks. Serena was tempering herself. She was attempting to focus on the here and now, and what she could do to help, rather than dwell on the simple fact that she hadn’t _been there._ She had a small voice in her head, Bernie’s voice, telling her that there was no reason to feel guilty. That she was here now.

Bernie was already wiped out financially from her divorce, so affording better lawyers was out of the question. All Serena could do was look at the files. “Prescribing blood thinning agents for an ischemic leg is… well, it's standard practice.” Serena frowned at the paper in her hand. “Bernie wouldn’t forget something so simple.”

“Well, she's sure she didn't. She’s sure she ordered the warfarin.” Donna explained, glad to have a new ally. Ric was good, but something told Donna that Ms Campbell had more of an investment. Plus, there was the added bonus of her being a fresh pair of eyes. She hadn’t been there that day, so therefore they could use her to see things they might have missed.

“Just not with you… and you have no idea why Bernie thought she had?” 

That’s the bit Serena didn’t understand. Well, one of them. Bernie was used to fast and furious medicine, thrived in it even, she wouldn’t have made a mistake like this on any other day. Something in particular must have happened, a breakdown in communication or an event to throw her off. There was no way that Serena was going to accept Bernie simply forgot the warfarin. She was too good a doctor for that.

“I can only assume that she assumed.” Donna shrugged. “We’ve worked together for a while now; we developed a system right from the trauma ward and just built on that. The day was so crazy, we really needed it.”

“That's the bit I don't get. If it was so busy, what was she doing having a ‘prolonged absence from the ward’?” Serena read out, trying to think back to any instance of similar behaviour from Bernie, but there was nothing. Sure, she escaped to the roof a few times, but she’d tell people that, and it was only when the ward was quiet. A prolonged absence indicated a few hours at least. The last time that had happened, that Serena could think of, was the opening of the trauma ward, though Bernie had been loathe to go and leave the ward then. She’d only done it because Serena had her back.

“She is allowed. A consultant being off-site isn't in and of itself negligent.” 

“Unless you fail to prescribe proper medication and then fail to follow up on your most urgent patient.” Serena pointed out. She sighed. The facts and the story they were telling, this wasn’t like Bernie. Bernie was one of the most dedicated, fierce doctors that Serena had ever met, even if she were to forgo her personal feelings, no one would say she was complacent in running AAU and looking after patients. She cared about patients more than paperwork, always. This was triage; taking priority. How could Bernie mess that up? Serena shook her head, pursing her lips. “This isn't Bernie. This is someone who is distracted. Her mind's elsewhere.”

“It wasn't like that. We were under the cosh... but we were focused. She was focused…” Donna defended, and Serena wanted to agree with her. But she hadn’t been there, and they just didn’t have the evidence to back that up. Serena had to play devil’s advocate.

“That's not the picture the prosecution will paint, though, is it?”

“According to Ric, all Bernie will say is that she was dealing with a family emergency - but…” Donna trailed off, with a shrug.

“But I can’t see that being true, can you?” Serena finished, deflating against the back of Bernie’s ergonomic chair, and rubbing her eyes. Donna shifted in the stunted visitor’s chair, and leaned forwards. She didn’t know how much Serena knew about how Bernie had been after the closing of the trauma unit, running AAUsingle-handed, and then the shooting… the hospital had it’s gossip, obviously. As much as Donna’s role was to try and be the right-hand woman so to speak, Bernie was always a difficult nut to crack.

“I don’t know.” Donna tried, “I mean, socially, she doesn’t seem to do much. It’s work and then the few odd nights at Albie’s. Even then, it’s not like she gets plastered, and it’s always with people from the hospital, so I don’t know if she’s got any friends outside of it. Never met her daughter but it’s like you said, Cameron’s travelling. I mean, who else is there?”

“Hm.” Whatever the reason was, it couldn’t be the one Bernie was trying to pawn off. Just as her injuries today were not an ‘accident’ as she was trying to flog. Serena needed a break. Her head was too full of legalese, too busy trying to figure out timelines, whether Bernie had given her a call, a text, or whether she should take a risk and call Cameron. But if Bernie hadn’t told _her_ that she was languishing in jail, then it was very unlikely that she’d bother her son on his holidays. “Look, let me think on it, Bernie’s going into theatre soon, so I’ll try and get in a quick word.”

Donna gave her an encouraging nod before getting up and leaving the office. Serena reclined back in her seat and let out a puff of air, attempting to stave off her tiredness. She checked her watch. It was much closer to Bernie’s theatre slot than she’d realised. Forcing herself up and out of her chair, Serena left the office, intending to head over to Bernie’s bed, or, failing that, hoping to catch her before theatre. 

“Dinner?” Serena was pulled out of her thoughts by her nephew, pushing along the dinner cart for patients. She smiled, walking in his direction.

“No thanks, Jason. I'm not hungry.”

“I meant, would you like dinner tonight?” That stopped her. “You can explain why you don't feel this is home anymore.”

Serena swallowed, her eyes diverting to Bernie’s bed, hoping foolishly that she hadn’t heard. The bay was empty. No Bernie. Good. That was a conversation for another time. Jason was handling it well, but, of course, Jason had never been made any promises. Serena and Bernie were a lot more complicated; Serena couldn’t help feeling like she was forcing Bernie to stay in Holby. After all, whilst she had not given any promise to Bernie in hopes of their relationship, they had continued on as normal. Long-distance, perhaps, but the affection never went away. The love. Add that to Serena having left Bernie with all of the ward to look after, and all the events since… Serena knew that Bernie just _had_ to feel obligated in some way. Serena couldn’t promise she could stay. She didn’t know whether she could inflict herself upon her loved ones just yet. 

“I'd love to.” Serena forced a smile. 

“Good. I'll send you the address.” 

“Wait. What address?” The smile slipped away. “Aren't you living at mine?”

“Sometimes. Not always.”

“Where else do you live?” She’d known nothing about this.

“Greta's.” Jason replied, and Serena’s alarms went off. Brief hope that he might say ‘Alan’ or ‘Bernie’s’ flitted away like crumpled paper in a very, very _tight_ fist.

“Who's Greta?”

“My girlfriend.” Jason answered with a smile. A girlfriend? Now this was news. He’d never mentioned a girlfriend before. Neither had Bernie, although their conversations mainly hinged on Serena’s wellbeing and… things not entirely PG, rather than Jason’s relationship status.

“You have a girlfriend?” She asked, folding her arms, tampering down her reaction. She was pleased for him, if a little ruffled. Today seemed a day for surprises. He didn’t need her to rant and rave, nor did she want to. _Picture the mountains._ “Wow. How long has this been going on?”

“Seven months, three weeks, four days and...17 hours.” Serena’s chest suddenly felt tight.

“You've had a girlfriend for seven months?!” 

“Seven months, three weeks…”

“Y-Yes, OK. Um…” She moved a little closer, not wanting to make a fuss on the ward. “Why didn't you tell me?”

“You didn't ask.” Jason noted, in his harmless way. It was like a slap. Serena was going to ask more but Donna walked up.

“Mr Griffin's ready in theatre with Ms Wolfe.” Donna told her. Serena nodded, thanking the nurse, whilst wrestling with her priorities. She didn’t want to miss Bernie’s surgery, but she would definitely have to follow up about this girlfriend. She wondered if Bernie knew. She’d never mentioned it in her emails or calls but again, they weren’t exactly focusing on Jason.

“OK?” Jason prompted her.

“Yes, lovely. 7.30.” Serena smiled her tight smile again, then headed off, with a quick pat to Jason’s arm. She was going to need a few hours at least to get over that news. Well, not get over. ‘Get over’ made it sound like an enormous thing. Surely it wasn’t that. Perhaps ‘prepare to face’ was better. Serena always knew that her coming back would mean having to face the fact that she’d left in the first place. 

Serena headed into theater, popped her head around the door to see Ric, clad in his scrubs, washing his hands in preparation. Clearing her throat, “Alright if I observe?”

“You can draw up a chair, help teach our Dr McKendrick a thing or two, if you like.” Ric agreed, knowingly. “So long as no very important CEO duties go unattended.”

“Yes, well, I’ve called Sacha back from his conference before going through the files with Donna.”

“Ah.” Ric said, scrubbing his wrists. Serena knew exactly what he was insinuating; about her getting involved in the case and wasn’t it probably better to work out if she was even staying in the country long enough to be involved in the trial, let alone if a sentence was made? He knew her too well.

“You can start without me, I’ll go and get scrubbed up.”

*******

It was very odd, for Serena, seeing Bernie _on_ the table, rather than over it. Certainly, if you’d told her that the next time that they would be in an operating theatre together, neither of them would be operating, they’d have laughed. It was over a year since they’d operated together. The last one they did had Serena run from the theatre, leaving Bernie behind. Perhaps a fitting image for what occurred after. Bernie was used to being on the table as much as beside it. She came to Holby ready to be sliced and diced, and her army career before that particular IED hadn’t been plain sailing, Serena had seen the scars. 

Lying on her side, underneath sterilized sheets, leaving only her wound exposed, Bernie lay awkwardly, her hair drawn up in a disposable cap, the harsh OR lights making the circles under her eyes even more noticeable. Serena sat next to the table, on a small stool as Ric worked to the left of her and Nicky over on the other side of Bernie’s body. Her hand, covered in latex gloves, held Bernie’s, and she stroked her thumb against it.

“You shouldn't be in prison.” Serena said casually, trying to get a read on Bernie’s expression.

“I wouldn't be, if I hadn't beaten up Jeremy Warren.” Bernie said, not looking at Serena, but instead straight out ahead of her, the world topsy-turvy. Serena’s motions stopped and Bernie held her breath till they started again, the comfort restored. The shock perhaps; Serena probably thought her violent. She had been, in that moment, to Jeremy. It had been stupid and reckless and almost out of body. She wasn’t a boxer like Ric, it had taken a few hits before things had gone down. She’d ended up with a split lip and a pair of handcuffs for her idiocy. “It's a mess... but I've made my bed and I'm going to have to lie in it.”

“Where were you? You were gone for three hours. Where?”

“It doesn't matter. Family emergency.” Bernie met Serena’s gaze, and squeezed her hand. “Where I was and what I was doing had no effect on my care of Elaine Warren. That's the truth.”

“Ready.” Dr McKendrick said, stepping back. Serena got up from her stool and went around to have a look at her handiwork. All seemed fine, so she gave a nod to Ric and a smile to Nicky. She was rather promising as a doctor; it was a good job. 

“OK, I'm going to remove the blade now.” Slowly, Ric slid out the tool, watching carefully for any bleeds or further trauma. Serena stayed where she was, stood next to Dr McKendrick, craning her neck keep the wound in view. “I'll have to take a closer look.”

Ric dropped the blade into the kidney dish with a _thunk_ on plastic. Serena managed to get a good look at it, now that it was clean, and she couldn’t hold back a gasp. She had originally thought it was a shiv. Some sort of crude blade made quickly from a broken… _thing_. Serena hadn’t gotten much of close look on her initial examination before Ric took over, preferring to remain clinical and take Bernie’s word. She hadn’t wanted to look at whatever it was sticking out of her girlfriend’s gut. Now she knew.

“That’s a screwdriver.” Serena stated, in a hoarse voice.

“I can do that.” Dr McKendrick spoke to Ric, indicating the still open wound.

“It’s fine.” Bernie looked straight ahead of her, looking at her hand that had been encased by Serena’s, flexing her fingers slightly at the empty space.

“Bernie, a _screwdriver._ ” Serena bit out, coming back around to the side with Ric, and more importantly, Bernie’s face. She couldn’t believe this. It was _fine?_ How was any of this _fine?_ Her temper flared at Bernie being so offhand and clinical about it. What was this now, they could flirt but they couldn’t have an honest conversation?

“I need you to order a CT scan ASAP.” Ric told Dr McKendrick.

“Has the blade caused internal...?”

“Now, please, Dr McKendrick.” Ric interrupted, wanting the young doctor out of the room. This had the possibility of becoming a scene, and Ric wanted the two women to have it out. He was concerned for Bernie as well, of course he was, and wanted to know the truth. He’d tried to get it out of Bernie, but it was like drawing blood from a stone. Hopefully, Serena could break down those walls that had been building ever since Elinor had died. Though he wondered, in Serena’s own all-consuming grief, whether she had noticed how it had taken a toll on Bernie.

“Does it matter?” Bernie pointed out, a little harshly. Serena’s eyebrows shot up. Of course, it mattered!

“It’s a marked difference between that and a makeshift shiv done on the sly. Who did this to you?” Her voice was surprisingly controlled, but there was a look in her eyes that had taken down many candidates attempting to pull the wool over her eyes. Bernie needed to stop shutting her out. It wasn’t going to help either of them.

The steady beeping from the machines accelerated.

“Keep her BP normal, Serena.” Ric warned, and Serena checked it. BP was a bit high. How was she meant to keep Bernie relaxed though, especially when she herself was so utterly _not?_ Ric continued his examination, cleaning out the wound before sewing. He spied her ribs, glad that Serena could not. They were purple. Definitely bruised, possible previous damage. “Lot of bruising there.”

“It’s fine, Ric.” Bernie replied. Serena swallowed hard against any rebuke, glancing out of the corner of her eye at the skin on show, tracing the outlines of the mottled bruises. She looked away sharply, and took her seat again, and Bernie’s hands, squeezing tightly. Didn’t Bernie understand how much Serena cared for her now?

“So... Jason's got a new girlfriend.” Serena tried for a level voice. It came out a little breathless.

“Yes. Greta.” Bernie replied.

“You’ve met her then?” Serena asked, surprised, eyes on Ric’s hands as he did the stitches. In and out. In and out. Every knot with the beep of a monitor. Bernie’s BP was calming down, becoming stable. 

“Just the once, at the two-month mark.”

“Is he happy?”

“Seems to be. He deserves to be.”

“I seem to have missed rather a lot.” Serena frowned to herself, a thought occurring. She kept her eyes on Ric’s stitches. “Bernie… Remember a few months ago, when I rang you from Nepal and asked you to help Jason out...?”

“Yes, it was nothing. All sorted.” Bernie replied quickly. Serena looked back at her, to her smile that seemed like a cardboard cutout for reassurance. Serena couldn’t help but see it as false. There were too many questions, too many threads, and a horrible feeling that Bernie was hiding something terrible from her. She would have asked more, but the OR doors opened with a clatter by Dr McKendrick coming back.

“Ms Campbell. Keller needs you. Something about Mr Valentine?” Ah, CEO duties it would seem. She shared a look with Ric, trusting him to get Bernie all sewn up nice and neat, and to ask questions if he could. He gave her a little nod back, understanding. Sliding her hand out of Bernie’s, she left. Nicky held the door open for her, but as soon as she was gone, wandered a little bit closer to the table.

“So, you and Ms Campbell?” She asked to Bernie.

“Dr McKendrick.” Ric warned. “Aren’t you needed back on the ward?”

“Sorry.” Nicky couldn’t help but be a little curious though. Come on, the women had been holding hands! And she’d asked Donna about it, though Donna apparently knew very little, because Ms Campbell had been gone by the time that she had taken up her post. Ms Wolfe really wasn’t the talking type. She was quite the enigma to all the F1s. Nicky hadn’t even realised she was gay. But she took Mr Griffin’s warning and left the OR, heading off to help out on the ward and see if Mr Levy had an ETA.

Ric was silent for a moment, working on the wound. “Serena isn't a fool, Bernie. Neither am I.” It was a warning to her. _Don’t hurt Serena_ . Though Ric knew her well enough to realize that wasn’t something Bernie wanted either. It was also his way of saying _let us help you._

“I know that, Ric. But you having a gander at my open wound is the closest you'll get to me ‘opening up’.” It reminded Ric of Bernie when she first came to Holby. Steadfast, resolute and completely internalised when it came to her emotions. It was like she shut down. There was a spark, a bit of banter, especially with Serena, but Ric could see the change. He hoped it worked out, for both of his friends’ sakes. There was something big between them now, and they both deserved to be happy after all life had thrown at them. Bernie sensed his hesitation and stretched her neck to look him in the eye. “Try not to make the stitches crooked.”

He took the message; leave well enough alone. “Note taken.”

*******

Bernie wasn’t asleep. She was resting with her eyes closed, the local anaesthetic having made her somewhat nauseous; her brain not being able to reckon with the numbness of her stomach where the screwdriver pierced. She’d not seen Serena since she returned to the ward, but Ric had filled her in on Serena’s managing CEO duties. Bernie hadn’t realised things had become so bad for Henrik. Bad for Mr Valentine as well, if Dr McKendrick’s summons were anything to go by. The hospital was in such a bad way, and Bernie hated herself for adding to it with her court case, with her problems. She hated herself equally for not being able to do anything about it except lying in a hospital bed in the ward she used to run.

She should tell Serena the truth. A logical part of her knows that, her head is yelling at her not to be so stupid, not to keep things from Serena. But communication was never Bernie’s strong suit. She was a woman of principle, and her principles was demanding to protect Serena and to keep her own issues close to the vest. It would do no good to the court case or Serena’s feelings to explain what the family emergency had been. As well as that, she didn’t exactly know how Serena would feel by her terming it Bernie’s own ‘family’ emergency. 

“Auntie Bernie!” The voice roused her from her thoughts and Bernie opened her eyes, a little blearily, to see Jason standing at her bedside. Bernie gave him a broad smile, pride emanating from her every time he called her that. It had certainly given her a shock when Jason had suggested it. For a while, Bernie had attempted to convince herself it was so Jason had stability; an ‘Auntie’ nearby at the hospital that he could hopefully turn to. But to hear him say it now, with Serena back, was very, very welcome.

“Jason!” She attempted to pull herself up, mindful of her stitches, but Bernie wasn’t going to sit around like an invalid. She was pleased to see Jason. He looked well. It had only been a few weeks or so since they had seen each other, but they had grown close over the last year, so much so that Bernie was obviously protective. “Hello.”

“You're not well.” Jason frowned at her.

“I had a bit of an accident, but I'll be fine.” Bernie was quick to reassure him, smiling. Jason didn’t look very convinced. Bernie guessed that the guard sitting at the side of her bed, tapping on a phone, wasn’t particularly encouraging, not to mention her bruises and stitches. 

“You don't look fine. You look tired. Old. Sick.” Bernie let out a bark of laughter, her gaze ducking down, cheeks red. She had to concede that point. Hospital gowns were anything but flattering, and her hair must look positively frightening. Luckily, she had never been very conscious of her looks. A desert climate and all that, her focus was on her job and the danger rather than the luxury of makeup. Outside of the odd bit of lippy and mascara, Bernie had little skill with a makeup brush. 

“I _will_ be fine.” She affirmed. Jason paused, and then nodded, seemingly happy with that. 

“Are you sleeping any better? You don’t look like you have.”

“Please tell me you haven't commented on your Auntie and her jetlag when you saw her.” Bernie punted for humour rather than the truth. The change of subject to Serena did the trick, and Jason grinned more broadly.

“I’m glad she’s back.” He said, and Bernie saw Serena coming onto the ward, a way away from them. Her heart fluttered, as it always did. It was a lost feeling that she gladly welcomed back. Serena always did that to her, even before they were together. It made her feel stable, at peace with herself. As if holding onto her love for Serena made things clearer. Shackled to the bed, however, Bernie didn’t quite have that same clarity. Things had changed. She was so tired now.

“Me too.”

“I know.”

“Sorry?” Bernie wondered whether it was that obvious. Jason seemed to take it all in stride however, nodding vigorously, lips pursed, pondering.

“Well, I love her, and I’m glad she’s back. And you love her. So you’re glad she’s back.”

“Very sound logic, Jason.”

“I heard you're in prison. Why?”

“I...did something wrong. I hurt someone.”

“Did you kill them?”

“No. I didn't kill anyone.” Bernie was quick to reassure. She couldn’t bear it if Jason was disappointed in her. He was one of her closest friends and she hoped that she was one of his. Serena was holding a file, looking her way. Bernie knew she was thinking on something. She recognised the worried brow, the steady gaze studying them. It was the same expression she got when reading a particularly odd medical file, trying to work out a diagnosis. Bernie bristled at the gaze, forcing herself not to stare Serena down, instead keeping her attention on Jason.

“I don't understand. You're a good person. It doesn't seem fair.”

“Thank you, Jason.”

“If I were you, I'd be angry. Aren't you angry?”

“Sometimes.” But that was mainly at herself. Bernie looked away from Jason, to Serena. Their eyes locked and Bernie couldn’t help bite down on her lip slightly, ashamed of herself, and angry. Serena didn’t need this, need her. She had to do what was right by Serena. She continued, in a hushed tone, not wanting Serena to know; “Jason... Did Serena ever ask you anything about what happened... you know, a few months ago?”

“No.” 

“And you never said anything to her?”

“Like you said, ‘Only if asked,’ right?”

“Right.” Bernie watched as Serena snapped the file shut and went back into her office. Bernie prayed she wasn’t working it all out, but she knew Serena, so she also knew the odds of her prayer coming true were low. 

“Goodbye, Auntie Bernie.” Her attention was pulled back to Jason.

“Goodbye, Jason. See you soon,” she hoped, giving him a little wave. But as soon as he was gone, her body went limp on the bed. She shut her eyes with a loud exhale, and tried to take her mind off of how nauseous she felt.

*******

Something wasn’t right. Serena could feel it in her gut and this was _not_ the after-effects of jetlag. This wasn’t her catastrophizing or trying to find fault in good things like she normally did. Something was wrong. Bernie was in jail, and the response that Bernie had given her when she had asked about Jason was odd to say the least. Unfortunately, Serena had the sickening feeling that she recognised it. All the bullishness, the evasiveness, passing off everything as fine despite having a bloody _screwdriver_ stuck out of her!

She sat at her desk and began typing, bringing up her phone records and reaching over to grab Elaine Warren’s file from Bernie’s desk. She needed to know if she was right. When she called Bernie from Nepal, she hadn’t thought anything of it. It was just Jason being Jason, he had a problem when they changed the flavour of Coca Cola. It wasn’t as if Serena could have done anything. So, she asked Bernie. Bernie had been fine with it, and Serena just received a text the next day. _All sorted_.

The phone records were there in black and white. 2nd October, 2017. The same date Elaine was admitted, it said so in her file. And there were only two phone calls. One at 10.45 from Jason, and one at 11.00 to Bernie. Rustling up Bernie’s statement, she read it to herself, mouthing the words as her heart fell through her stomach. She left only 30 minutes after Serena called. That had to be it. It had been, what? 5 minutes on the phone with her, and then likely a phone call with Jason. Then what?

Floored, Serena leant back in her chair, a hand covering her eyes. This was her fault. She’d brought this on the ward, on Jason, on Bernie. She just… she hadn’t been here. But she was here now, she had to focus on that. There was no time for wallowing, and maybe this emergency wasn’t to do with Jason. Surely, Bernie had other priorities than everything Serena had left behind. Perhaps an old army buddy in trouble? Not family, but Bernie would count them as such? It was all conjecture though.

The only one who could tell her was Bernie.

Serena headed straight to her bedside, wringing her hands slightly, before addressing the guard. Poor bloke, he looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here. On his phone, of all things. “Excuse me. I need to speak to my patient in private. You can stand over there but I'm afraid you can't be privy to this conversation.” He nodded, silent, and moved. “Thank you.”

“Serena…” Bernie tried, but Serena held up a hand, silencing her. She needed to say this. She needed the truth.

“Bernie, I never did get to the bottom of what was upsetting Jason when I called you. He texted me the next day, saying everything was fine, so I didn't think about it again. Until today.” 

“Serena…” Bernie gave her a look, her brown eyes so expressive and for the first time, Serena could see a deep pain there. All the bravado and bravery put away, so that Serena knew. Bernie didn’t have to say anything. Serena was right.

“I called you at 11am on the 2nd of October. You were treating Elaine Warren. You left the ward at 11:30 and didn't return for three hours.” She forged on, needing to get this out, but by her last words, her voice was failing her into a whisper. “You weren't dealing with your family emergency, were you? You were dealing with mine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for reading! There will definitely be more to come. As this is a precarious time in our fandom, if anyone has any fic requests for fluffy stuff or oneshots, I am happy to do them; I want to contribute. As well as that... I so want to put Bernie's next words as "Ours." - what do we think? In character? 
> 
> Heather xxx


	4. Chapter 4

_ “You weren't dealing with your family emergency, were you? You were dealing with mine.” _

Bernie couldn’t keep her eyes off of Serena. She saw the truth hit and the ramifications land and ripple over Serena’s expression; the ideas of guilt and self-incrimination settling. Serena was doing exactly what Bernie had seen a number of times, what she had feared would happen when the reason for Bernie’s incarceration became clear. She would blame herself. And that was the last thing that Bernie wanted. Serena should not blame herself for this. She hadn’t been there, it had been Jason’s problem, and Bernie’s choice. She would do it again. 

Bernie patted her hand down on the bedside next to her, wanting Serena to sit. Serena let out a small noise of discontent, but after a moment, did as Bernie bid, and sat down on the edge of the bed, at Bernie’s hip, one hand going up to her necklace. Bernie filed that away as something to ask about later; she knew the story of Serena’s previous chain as a present from her father. There was no way this new necklace could hold any less significance. Bernie took Serena’s hand, Serena sighing and melting into the touch as the seconds in silence passed. Serena stroked her thumb over the top of Bernie’s hand, but the movement was caught against the tape and apparatus of the IV line. She tensed up again. Bernie, noticing, simply held harder, and waited for Serena to meet her gaze.

“Ours.” Bernie said, assured. 

“Ours?” Serena asked, a little breathless. It was the same tightening of her chest she had felt when Jason had referred to Bernie as his aunt. The scared little flutter of her heart against the vice of her ribs, too scared to let it flourish. Her hopes of a family had died when Elinor had; she didn’t know if she could let herself have that security of something that Bernie proclaimed as theirs. Ours. Our family.

“It was never meant to become a big secret.” Bernie continued, head going back to her pillow, looking upwards. “It was just something that had to be sorted. I dealt with it. Jason needed help; he’d let some friend come and stay for a few days and apparently, this friend had taken advantage...”

“Advantage?”

“Food, money, a place to stay. I don’t know, I didn’t ask." Bernie swallowed. "But when you called me, when Jason had called you- something happened. He caught this girl stealing  _ something  _ of yours, breaking something.” It was plain that Bernie knew what this something was, though she wasn’t going to say to Serena. It didn’t do anything for Serena’s annoyance levels.

Serena reared up, ready to leave and go and get Jason, “Right, I'm going to get him and we're going to have this out.”

“Serena, wait! Let me explain.” Bernie's grip tightened on her hand, stopping her. Serena sat back down, her temper no less dulled.

“What's to explain?” She asked her, pointedly, letting go of her hand to gesticulate. “Jason lets some scumbag into my home, without ever breathing a word of it to me.”

“He couldn't!” Bernie said, as forcefully as she could given her condition. She remembered the day clearly, knew how upset Jason had been, it had been a big deal for him to even call Serena for help, he couldn’t then explain why and what had happened, not when he knew it would upset her. They both knew that it would upset her. “He was in a really bad way. He said that you knew this person. That you would be very angry with him for being so stupid and that you would never trust him again.” Bernie deflated. “So I said he didn’t have to tell you. That if you didn’t ask, there was no reason to… neither of us wanted to cause you any distress.”

“I’m not some sort of fragile-” Serena butted in and Bernie actually laughed at that, because it was so utterly Serena and she had missed it.

“I know that.” Her laughter died and she became pensive once again, meeting Serena’s eyes. Looking her over, evaluating a woman she felt she knew better than herself, a lot of the time. The hair, the new blouse full of bold colour, and the stress that was now permeating her expression. The worry and the guilt that was hidden poorly behind any anger directed towards Jason or Bernie. She knew the next part of the story wouldn’t be any easier for her to hear. Bernie was as honest as she could be. At least Serena seemed less inclined to jump out of her chair now. “But you were healing. The last I had heard from you was you checking into that Nepalese retreat. You sounded good, and then Jason called. Besides… there had been an incident.” 

“What? Was Jason hurt?” Worry flared on Serena’s part, and once again Bernie faltered, not wanting to tell her. “Bernie…”

“Not as badly as the other person.” She replied, finally, head back on the pillow, eyes on the ceiling. 

“Who was this person?”

“An ex-girlfriend called Lola…”

“Lola Winston.” Serena knew the name. To be honest, it wasn’t like Jason had had many ex-girlfriends. Though considering she hadn’t known he had a  _ current  _ girlfriend, what she thought didn’t seem to hold much water anymore. A horrifying thought; “Jason hurt Lola?”

“It was an accident…"

“How badly was she hurt?" Serena asked, trying to wrap her head around it. Lola Winston. She thought they had been well shot of that scamming little madam months and months ago. She waited for an answer. Bernie was reluctant, so she pressed; "Bernie!”

“Bad enough.” Bernie admitted, watching Serena. Serena sighed, looking down at their interlocked hands, her thumb toying with the surgical tape holding the line in place as she worked her head around the facts. Jason and Lola had been hurt. Jason had called her. She had called Bernie. Bernie had gone to help.

“I still don't understand. If you'd taken them to the ED, then there'd be some record of them being admitted which would explain where you'd been…” 

“We never made it to the ED." Bernie told her. Her cheeks went pink. "I treated them in the car park.”

“What?!” Serena cried, baffled. Images of the Big Macho Army Medic came to the forefront, of Bernie taking control, barking orders, but if that had happened then people would have seen- would have noticed! Holby City was hardly like Kandahar, nor was it overwhelmed by one more patient. Why on earth could Bernie not have waited a few moments and yelled for a stretcher? It was ridiculous. Bernie’s jaw tightened, not appreciating the feeling of being judged, her natural defensiveness rising at Serena’s look. It wasn’t ideal, she knew that.

“I...had my reasons. In the circumstances, it was... better not to involve the police.” Ironic now, given the circumstances. Bernie had the good sense to be a little embarrassed about it, but she would do it all the same if she had to. She knew Serena wouldn’t like it, but unfortunately, that was tough luck on her part. She hadn’t been there, and Bernie stood by what she did. “I did what I had to.”

A sentence that was usually bound to make Serena hot and bothered, right up there with 'I'll take care of it', and 'What can I do to help?' at least when it came from Bernie. Serena did indeed flush, which didn’t go completely unnoticed by Bernie, who gave a fond smile.

“You did that for Jason?” It was hard not to smile back at that. 

“I didn't do it  _ just  _ for Jason…” Bernie amended, shyly. 

“Bernie.” Serena sultry smile died. It wasn't the right time.

“Look, Serena, I need you to know, I know I'm not exactly the best prospect right now, and this is not how I wanted us to… well,  _ reunite _ , after you got back, but if you are back then I-”

“I'm not back.” Serena quickly interrupted. She didn't know why she had to say it, and looking at Bernie's falling expression, part of her wished she hadn't, but she needed space. She didn't want to bring Bernie's hopes up when the last thing she knew was what her future held. So, Serena hid from it. 

“You're… you're not?” Bernie faltered, thinking she had the wrong end of the stick. How was she not back? Serena was here, working, making plans with Jason, saying things that gave Bernie hope. Bernie's hand retreated, leaving Serena’s. 

“No,” Serena replied, dull.

“Right.” Bernie picked at her cuticles, not looking upwards. 

“I'm just here as a favour to Henrik.”

“So…”  _ Just a favour.  _ So… it hadn't been a choice. It had been a request. Not permanent. Bernie felt embarrassed. Here she was about to spill out words of love to a woman who didn't even want to be here. She didn't blame Serena. She couldn't do that, because she loved her. If Serena had come back before she was ready, then Bernie couldn't discount that, not without being totally callous. It was as she said; she was hardly a prospect, and despite flirty behaviour, the two women could hardly  _ definitely  _ say they were in a relationship. Wishful thinking, perhaps. 

“I'll be gone again in a few weeks. A couple of months at most.” Serena relayed, finding solace in the facts of it all. She had her flight already hesitantly booked. Henrik had said a few weeks, so she'd already prepared her getaway. Serena had come back to Holby, yes, but with the express idea that it was not for good. Whatever she felt now had to be irrelevant. It just wasn't part of the plan.

But neither had Bernie being in jail, the hospital being in turmoil, or Jason having a girlfriend. 

All she wanted was to protect them both. Protect herself. Protect Bernie. Perhaps it had been cruel for her to keep Bernie hanging on, when Bernie deserved so much more. But it was so hard, when Serena loved her so fiercely, and when she knew that despite everything, Bernie loved her.

“Sorry, I thought… I thought you were doing okay, I thought that we…” Bernie trailed off, not knowing how to word it. She could never word things. Bernie could hardly blame Serena for taking one look at her and cutting her losses. Jason was family, but Bernie… Bernie wasn't. She saw that when she made that stupid comment.  _ Ours.  _ Why would Serena want to be associated with such a mess? AAU was a mess. She'd ruined that. Jasmine and Raf were dead, Morven was gone, Cam was gone, the trauma unit- a practical  _ symbol _ of their relationship- had been torn away. Bernie had barely kept the ward afloat. Barely kept herself afloat. Even this mess with Jason… She knew she should have stayed in Serena’s house with him. If she had, this wouldn't have happened, but she couldn't. It wasn't her house. What had Bernie been expecting? That everything would go back to how things were before Elinor's death? Bernie Wolfe was many things. She never thought she'd call herself naive. Maybe she was just kidding herself.

“Jason knows. I've made him aware and everybody else.” Serena looked anywhere but Bernie’s face, her gaze finding Jason and sticking with him, watching him wheel a patient out of the AAU doors. It was only when he was out of sight, and Bernie gave out a sigh, that Serena looked back at Bernie, her face pinched with worry.

“So, what, you were… leading me on?” Bernie accused in a soft tone, no malice, but with eyes squinted in such a 'Bernie' way, that Serena could practically read her mind. 

“No! No, Bernie, I wasn't!” Leading her on was never what Serena wanted. She just didn't want to lose Bernie. She never wanted to lose Bernie. It was just so complicated. Bernie seemed to regress into her frame, shrinking in the hospital bed ad the walls went up. Serena nearly cried out in frustration.

“Serena, if you want to break up-” Bernie was breathless, her weight fully back on the hospital bed. Break up. As if she even knew they were a couple or not. This was the first time they'd seen each other in months and Serena wasn't even back for good. Bernie's breathing became laboured and Serena adjusted her seat on her bedside, taking Bernie's hand again.

“That's not what I meant.” She responded, fiercely. Bernie closed her eyes. “Look, Bernie, I do still love you- Bernie?” Words faltered as she watched as Bernie's jaw went slack and the machines at the side began to beep loudly. Serena panicked. “Bernie?” She stood up, hands going to cradle Bernie's cheeks, looking for any response. Nothing. Violently, Serena began to shake Bernie, trying to get her to regain consciousness, all the while yelling for help, her mind yelling  _ no, no no!  _ Bernie was just laying prone under Serena’s touch, not responding. “Bernie! Some help here, please! Bernie!”

Donna, Sacha and Nicky came running. Instantly everything was a flurry of activity as Serena watched Bernie's body shake and then convulse, all muscles tensing in some sort of fit. Serena stepped back, allowing the others to work.

“BP's 80/60. Dropping fast.” Nicky read from the machine, oxygen mask in hand should it be needed, pump attached. Sacha had the tablet, all read up on Bernie’s history after his quick dash from his conference. Ric was back on Keller.

“Haematoma.” He passes the tablet to Serena, who took a quick glance. It was in Bernie's abdomen. No wonder her BP was high. 

“From an uncontained renal injury,” Donna responded as Sacha searched Bernie's neck for a proper pulse. Serena downed the tablet and began examining Bernie's stomach, heart in her throat but mind clear as her hands brushed against scars and bruises. She pushed past them, trying to focus on what was causing Bernie’s pain right at that moment. “It's not the first time she's been attacked, is it, Mr Levy?”

“Oh, God.” Sacha breathed, causing Serena to look up, sharply. “Haemorrhaging internally.”

“We need to get to theatre.” She ordered, already putting up the rails on Bernie's bed. Sacha faltered, wary of Serena operating, understandably. He was pressing on Bernie’s chest, performing CPR, but he knew theatre was the right play. “Now!”

“Are you okay to-” Sacha stopped at seeing the look on Serena’s face; like an avenging angel. She was getting into that theatre, and she was making sure that her Bernie was coming out of it safe and sound. Then she was going to have a good chat with Sacha Levy about what on  _ Earth  _ Donna had been talking about when she said this wasn’t the first time Bernie had been attacked. 

“Try and stop me.”

*******

Christ, she’d forgotten how messy open surgery could be. There was bleeding everywhere from the gape in Bernie’s abdomen, and Serena was furiously trying to look for the source, but all she could see was blood. Sacha was assisting her, but he was obviously worse at compartmentalising, looking at Bernie’s face every so often, motionless under the anaesthesia. Serena didn’t. She couldn’t. It was enough seeing more bruises than she had expected Bernie had, when they had made the first incision to open her up.

Serena pressed pack after back, eyes searching for the point where all the blood was coming from, wincing slightly as she saw just how much damage there was. Ric hadn’t been kidding when he’d said there had been previous attacks; Bernie had been beaten up, repeatedly. Serena hadn’t really focused on it before, but now the horrific evidence of her treatment inside was laying on a table in front of her. What had Ric said? That Bernie was the ‘person to take down’? Bernie wasn’t an attacker, from the looks of things, a lot of her injuries were from self-defence. Serena took a deep breath.

“Packs, please. I need an additional sucker.” She called to the attending nurse, who deposited them, and grabbed a sucker. Everything was moving quickly, noises blaring, action sped up. “Sacha, the packs!” Serena said, looking up to try to grab Sacha’s gaze. 

“Sorry.” He pulled out of it, jerking into motion. “Packs, please, thank you.” They both set about packing the wound, trying to soak up all the blood they could whilst the nurse got a new sucker and began to aid them. Sacha shook his head, mournfully. It was the first time he had seen Bernie since the arrest. He’d only heard vague things from Ric. “How did it get so bad? 

“She's clearly suffered repeated renal damage.” Serena rattled off. “Previously it's been contained. Whatever happened today... straw, camel's back.” Her voice wavered at the end there. She clamped down on saying anything more, refocusing, adjusting her stance to think only about the job in front of her.

“I should have stopped this... I should have done something.” Sacha mumbled as Serena continued to search for whatever was causing all the bleeding.  _ You and me both,  _ she thought, though knew it was ridiculous of her to think so. Neither of them could have done anything about this. Serena hadn’t even known about this until a few hours ago! There was nothing to be done. They could only focus on what they could do  _ now.  _ Serena felt something.

“I've found the source of the bleeding.” She said to Sacha. “Can you apply pressure?”

“Yep.” Sacha pressed down on the spot Serena pointed to. Seconds passed until... 

“BP stabilising.” The nurse read out and Serena felt a wave of relief crash over her as she saw the numbers printed in a healthy green on the monitor. The anxious energy she had used to power her through the operation dissipated. Sacha sighed, continuing on with the work, to make sure they stopped the bleed for good.

“Good. She's going to be OK.” He smiled, grabbing a couple of extra packs with his free hand and mopping up the incision. Suddenly Serena was overcome with a feeling of nausea. Bernie wasn’t going to be okay. She wasn’t even okay now! She looked over the sterilised partition to see Bernie’s face, immobile and intubated. Her second surgery of the day.

“For now…”

*******

Serena tore off her mask, her cap and her surgical gown, binning them unceremoniously in the waste bin. She was angry. Maybe she had no right to be, not after how she left things with Bernie, but damn it, she was. She was angry that she needed to leave in the first place, that Jason had felt that he couldn’t talk to her, that Bernie was in this mess that was caused by Serena’s actions. That Serena couldn’t be honest with Bernie.

The truth was, this place frightened her. The idea of this place, of Holby, of the old her and slipping back into a person she hated. It wasn’t about Bernie or Jason or taking up the reigns at AAU. It was having taken all this time away and not have learnt anything. The last thing she wanted was to become cruel again, when the hospital had already gone through so much. Even if she was itching to run into the arms of the family she still had left, was she willing to risk it? Would being here only make things worse? Things in Nepal, in France, in all of her travels, they had been going well. More than. She felt like herself again. At least, a version of herself she could recognise. One that Elinor would not have been ashamed of. One that Jason could trust, and Bernie could… perhaps, love. So, there was the question: does she stay? Or, as soon as Henrik was back, does she go again?

Serena pulled at the collar of her scrubs, converting her anger into a loathing of the garments: she had always hated scrubs. But now she was just too warm. Too anxious. All she had wanted to do at the start of the day was… to get through it. Just get through it. Face her demons. Find the ghosts.

She went straight to her office. Their office. Bernie’s office. Damn it! She didn’t even know what to call a bloody room! Serena went straight for the nearest chair; Bernie’s chair, collapsing into it. On the desk opposite she could see the files of Bernie’s case, of Elaine Warren’s death. Everyone had been telling her everything that had been going on since she had left on sabbatical. She’d found a fount of information given by Jason, and everyone else had told her all about the hospital and Ric and Morven and Jasmine and Raf and the shooting and Henrik. What had it been that Bernie had told her? Nothing.

Sitting up straighter, Serena looked over the desk she sat at. No detritus, no coat or bag, but there were photographs of Cameron and Charlotte. Bernie’s stationery. All was in order, nothing out of place. Maybe this was overstepping a boundary, but Serena needed information. She started opening the desk drawers, starting with the bottom one. 

“Come on, darling, talk to me,” she whispered under her breath, spying files. Inventory lists, and the old plans for the now shut-down trauma unit. But they weren’t lying flat, and were all at an angle. Serena reached down and took out the files, seeing what they had been resting on. A bottle of wine. Red wine, opened but still with at least half of it in there. The label had been scuffed, ripped off and was therefore illegible. Serena had a feeling what it was. She unscrewed the cap and brought the neck towards her nose, before breathing in deeply. Softly; “Shiraz.”

Screwing up the bottle, she set it on the top of the desk, closing the bottom drawer and opening the top one. All seemed normal. Serena couldn’t help but smile at seeing Bernie’s spidery handwriting on forms, and a handful of cereal bars stowed for a rainy day or long shift. A spare pad of paper covered in little doodles and random lists of symptoms; an aide to Bernie’s thinking process. Nothing out of the ordinary. So, what? The only thing new was that Bernie liked the odd taste of Shiraz. That wasn’t even new. They had always been known to split a bottle. Serena recognised it as a brand she drank; it barely looked touched from when she’d left it.

Serena slammed the desk drawer shut. Then paused. She took hold of the drawer handle again and opened it, shaking it. A noise; a small, hollow thud. Looking back in the drawer, something had fallen from the back of the drawer, forwards. A card box. Serena took it out, seeing it was a box of medications. Frowning, Serena checked the label. It was prescribed to Bernie: Berenice G. Wolfe. Prescribed over 6 weeks ago.

“Sertraline.” Serena read out, not able to take it in. Bernie had been prescribed mood stabilisers? Sertraline was used for anxiety. Panic attacks, PTSD, depression even. Why didn’t she tell her anything? Surely she should have noticed. Serena felt sick. She toyed with the small box in her hands, nails scratching against the packaging. It was unopened. Bernie wasn’t taking them. Maybe it was a mistake, perhaps Bernie was fine and it was just some overcautious GP. Maybe… maybe… maybe...

Serena put them back in the drawer, and looked over into the ward. Bernie was back in her bay. Asleep. Serena wanted to talk to her; they  _ needed  _ to talk. 

But it would have to wait. She needed to clock off, that last surgery on Bernie had made her completely lose track of time. It was 7.00pm.  _ Damn it,  _ Jason’s dinner. Taking her phone from her pocket, she saw a message from her nephew. Jason was at Pulses.

*******

She swept in to Pulses, excuses already on her tongue about how she was just going to be two minutes whilst she ran up to the CEO’s office and grabbed her bag and suitcase, when Jason, sitting alone, caught her off guard, a can of pop and a half-eaten sandwich on the table. Serena frowned.

“I thought we were having dinner with Greta?” She rested one hand on the back of his chair, and the other on her hip, as her nephew looked up, then back to his sandwich.

“Greta cancelled,” Jason said, forlorn, as Serena stroked his back soothingly. She let out a little tut, disappointed for Jason, though part of her couldn’t help but be glad. She really wasn’t quite sure if she could face more  _ new  _ things. “Maybe another day.”

“OK.” Serena nodded, coming round the table. She wondered how best to approach this; needing the truth, but knowing that Jason had been sworn to secrecy by Bernie. The best thing to do was to be to the point, brusque, and considerate. She sat down opposite him, folding her arms towards herself. Another guard rail. “Jason...what happened with Lola?”

“I saw her at a soup kitchen. She needed help. I gave her food and money. Then I caught her stealing. We had an argument. She got hurt. Auntie Bernie fixed us both up, said some things to Lola and she went away forever.” 

“Jason, did you hurt her?”

“She was stealing. I had to stop her…” Jason pointed out, and Serena shook her head softly.

“You should have just let her have the money…” She said, earnestly. That would have been a lot better than this mess. Money wasn’t worth all of this, or worth Jason going through all that distress.

“She wasn't stealing money. I gave her money. She was taking Elinor's stuff.” Serena felt her heart sink. Ellie. Jason carried on, oblivious to her sudden change. But all Serena could think about was her little girl, and all she had left of her. Of course Jason and Bernie had wanted to keep this all from her. And how she wished they hadn’t had to. “I went to get it back. She fell. Hit her head. She didn't want to go to the hospital. Said she was fine… but I remembered Elinor. So I called you… and you called Auntie Bernie and she fixed everything.” 

“Oh, love, I'm so sorry that this happened.” Tears were on the edges of her eyes as she felt unable to blink, drinking in Jason’s expression and words, Serena could have cried. Auntie Bernie fixed everything. Yes, that sounded about right. “That I wasn't here - and that you felt you couldn't tell me.”

“I could tell you,” Jason explained. “Auntie Bernie and I decided not to. Because you were happy. Far away from all the bad stuff in your head.” Serena let out a tiny breath. The bad stuff in her head was one way to put it. But she’d rather Bernie and Jason felt they could have talked to her. “At first, I worried…”

“Why?” She had been happy. Travelling, finding out who she was again, exploring and trying new things. But it was a hollow sort of happiness, she was starting to realise. But was that her choice; hollow happiness or overwhelming sadness? Jason carried on amidst Serena’s inner turmoil.

“...and then Mr Di Lucca was killed, Mr Valentine and Ms Naylor were shot and Auntie Bernie isn’t sleeping… and you still didn't come back. Your new home must be wonderful.” Serena tried for a smile. It didn't really work. Jason just looked so sure of himself, surer than Serena felt. Her new home must be wonderful. Was it? Truthfully, she wished she could erase this whole past year. All the grief, and the sadness, and the hurt. She'd take bickering with Bernie on the ward and Jason's fish and chip nights over the views of Nepal any day. One day, what seemed a lifetime ago, she remembered telling Bernie about what mattered: her patients, and her family. That was what she was good at. Where were the mountains in that picture-perfect? But then again... where had been all the ghosts? Was that an option now; true happiness, after Elinor? She'd accepted that life didn't stop after Ellie's death. That didn't mean that she knew what that life looked like though.

Serena remembered hearing about Raf; details shared sparingly by Bernie over the phone. She’d sent texts to Fletch and all those on her phone, offering condolences, and sent flowers. Bernie had said she’d signed a card from the both of them. She knew more from Henrik, who had gone into the events of the shooting on his briefing emails before her flight that morning, in his usual factual reporting. Serena looked up from her coffee, her mind latching on to part of Jason’s words… Bernie wasn’t sleeping.  Serena shook it off. It would be for another day. A lot would be for another day, and she reached out and took his hand, swallowing against her dry throat.

“Jason, love…”  _ It was now or never, Campbell. _

Serena couldn’t go. Jason was wrong. All of her travels, all the retreats, and trips and lay-overs had been just that. Retreats. Sanctuaries for her to meditate and get her head right, away from all the bad stuff. It hadn't been home. Serena was starting to realise that the bad stuff had been inside her, not just this place. Despite all the ghosts and memories, they were just ghosts. Intangible. They couldn’t hurt her unless she let them, and Jason was right in one respect: the bad stuff was in her head. Serena was stronger than that now.

Home was Holby. It had always been Holby. It was her leafy detached that she had yet to step a foot back in yet, and it was in the strong, hot coffee in Pulses, and her work that made her feel alive. She may have done the right thing, and could not regret leaving all the bad stuff behind to go and find herself and go on that journey. However, it was clear that she had also left behind a lot of good stuff. Good stuff and good people that now, for better or worse, needed her. By leaving everything behind, she had become lonely and missed out on so much, and left others lonely as well.

_ Henrik. Jason. Ric and Sacha. Oliver Valentine and Jac Naylor. Bernie. _

“What if this was home?”

*******

Serena was buoyed by her conversation with Jason. He’d already sorted out a ride back to her house, so Serena had opted to stay at the hospital, for just an hour longer. Her shift had ended, but her world still felt like it was spinning; her objectives much changed since this morning. Besides, there was always something to do, and better to face the steady thrum of the wards again, rather than go home to her leafy detached. She hoped it wasn’t as cold as it had felt when she’d left it. She wondered if the pillows she had left on the bed would still smell of lavender.

Albie’s had been a thought, to see all the others, maybe catch up with Fletch in particular, but in the end, Serena hadn’t felt like she could face it. She was left feeling a bit lame. Ironic that she was brought back to a place that supposedly needed her, to find that everybody apparently just… didn’t. She had offered to go home with Jason, cook for him, but he’d said he’d been fine. And he was. He had a girlfriend, he had friends, he had a whole life now. Or else, she couldn’t help even though she wanted to. 

And there was that particular conundrum, just in her line of sight. Bernie Wolfe. Still drugged up and out for the count, though it was now night. She’d need a long night of sleep to recover from her surgery, and it certainly wasn’t going to be a walk in the park. Serena watched as Donna checked Bernie’s vitals, and wrote them down. It seemed like there was still a good team here. A lot of people caring for Bernie, when she’d let them. Serena couldn’t help but feel that Bernie wasn’t  _ really  _ letting them do anything.

A few clicks of the mouse, Serena’s attention went back to the computer screen. She was sat at the nurses' station, bringing up the internet and changing a few things. A change of plan. Serena cancelled the outgoing flight ticket. She’d bought it because it was cheaper to get a return, easier to have an end date in sight and… frankly, comforting to have a possible escape route. Now she knew. There wasn’t anywhere else she needed… or wanted to be.

With the confirmation message that her flight was cancelled, Serena closed the window, and got up, sharing a smile with Donna as they passed each other. Donna headed to the computer that Serena had left, and Serena went over to Bernie’s bedside, and pulled up a chair. One elbow moved to rest on the arms of the chair and cradled her forehead, and her other hand reached upwards to tug and play with the charm around her neck.

She watched the steady rise and fall of Bernie Wolfe’s chest, and told herself she’d go home later.


End file.
